


take my soul

by kissmesexybatman



Series: show me the sun [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Holidays, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: "Keith held the box like it contained an armed bomb rather than five adorable, hungry, active kittens. 'What did you do?''You say that like I ask for these things to happen to me,' Lance protested.'Oh, good, because that's exactly what I meant.'"A sequel tothe ghost of you





	take my soul

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna just start this by giving the biggest of shoutouts to everyone who read, kudos'd, and commented on _the ghost of you_. This is for you guys, and it's nothing but fucking fluff. 
> 
> Eat your hearts out, ya filthy animals. Happy Holidays-in-May.

>>Me: im just saying

>>im p sure he wants me dead (╥_╥)

 

_ >>pidgeotto: why do all of our conversations end up here _

_ >>anyways you dont get pneumonia from the cold _

_ >>biologically impossible _

 

>>Me: oh yeah well how will you feel when your precious biology KILLS ME

 

_ >>pidgeotto: biology is killing all of us lance its the human condition _

 

>>Me: has keith been playing sleeping with sirens again??

 

_ >>pidgeotto: YES make him stop _

 

>>Me: how am i supposed to stop him

 

_ >>pidgeotto: hes your boyfriend _

 

>>Me: …...not officially

 

_ >>pidgeotto: you were walking around in his boxers yesterday _

 

>>Me: you cant prove that

 

_ >>pidgeotto: a) theyre definitely his bc theyre covered in cartoons of mothman and the loch ness monster and b) i have pictures _

 

>>Me: dELETE THOSE

 

_ >>pidgeotto: thats gonna be a hard no on that _

_ >>anyways get back to work _

 

>>Me: i could say the same to you

 

_ >>pidgeotto: its my office hour and no ones showing up _

_ >>the only commitment i have right now is to pokemon_

 

>>Me: unbelieveable

>>have you eaten lunch?

 

_ >>pidgeotto: yes, mom _

_ >>now get back to work _

 

>>Me: yes, mom

 

Tucking his phone back into his orange apron, Lance gave the full trashcan sitting by his feet a dirty look. _Technically_ it was his responsibility to take it out, since he was the only one behind the paint counter right now, but his shift was so close to over and it was honest to god _sleeting_ outside. What kind of all-powerful deity had the audacity to deliver them such awful weather just three weeks before Christmas? Lance didn’t know, but they were probably pagan. He kind of couldn’t blame them.

 

He glanced at the digital clock sitting on the counter. Twenty minutes until his shift ended and he got to go home. Working at the paint counter during the holidays was both great and awful, because practically no one bought _paint_ as a holiday gift-- _practically_ ; Lance had seen things-- so he wasn’t as overwhelmed as everyone else, but it also meant that most of his coworkers were too busy to stop by for a chat and break up the monotony of his day, sitting there behind the counter and fielding the occasional request for some boring shade of beige by a suburban soccer mom, inevitably named after a type of coffee (Lance shuddered every time he walked into Starbucks now).

 

And like, okay, he could probably totally sneak out and leave the bin full of paint sticks and test strips for his replacement, but he wasn’t a complete dick. Lance spared the bag one more baleful look before pulling his phone back out of his apron. He still had some time to kill.

 

>>Me: when i die youre not allowed to play your emo music at my funeral

 

_ >>mullet man: but how will you stop me when you’re dead? _

 

>>Me: i cant believe this

>>im gonna be remembered by twenty one pilots

 

_ >>mullet man: i already have the playlist ready _

 

>>Me: beTRAYAL

>>DECEPTION

>>DISGRACE

 

_ >>mullet man: is this your way of telling me you want disney music at your funeral? _

 

>>Me: yes i want pure phil collins

>>people will be sobbing their eyes out

>>itll be great

>>the ending i dESERVE

 

_ >>mullet man: i’ll see what i can do _

 

>>Me: aww babe you do love me

 

Lance sucked in a breath after he sent the text. As part of the whole “we’re not dating” thing, neither of them had actually said anything about loving each other. Not seriously, anyways. And sure, Keith’s therapist had said that he was probably okay for a relationship now, that he’d done good work in the last few months, but they still shied away from the L word, and Lance was too much of a coward to admit to anyone but himself that he was scared that too much too soon would chase Keith away. He tapped his fingers against the counter, staring at his phone and waiting for the reply.

 

_ >>mullet man: enough to know you should be working right now _

 

Crisis averted. It was a Christmas miracle.

 

>>Me: have you and my sister formed an alliance behind my back

 

_ >>mullet man: yeah, we’re called “lance’s better halves” _

 

>>Me: i cant have two better halves dummy

 

_ >>mullet man: pity, you need all the help you can get _

 

>>Me: EVIL AS PLAIN AS THE SCAR ON HIS FACE

 

_ >>mullet man: go back to work _

 

>>Me: (╥_╥)

 

Keith didn’t reply. Lance typed out another few sobbing emojis, sending each one as a separate text. Unfortunately, his not-boyfriend was almost as stubborn as he was. There was no new message.

 

Lance sighed and glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes before his replacement was due to show up. He would wait until she got here and then take the garbage out right before he left. At least that way, when he got soaked, he had his car’s heater to look forward to.

 

The holiday season might be boring for him, but the people-watching was decent. Lance watched a woman walk by with a sweater on inside out and mismatched boots, a slightly wild look in her eye. Her cart was full of kitty litter and four pink plastic flamingos. A little kid in a bright red parka skipped along at her side, belting out carols at the top of his lungs, only pausing for a second when he was Lance watching him before resuming his singing with impressive gusto. Lance grinned at him and waved as they walked away, smiling growing even further as the kid waved back.

 

Ah, the holiday season. Lance adored it.

 

His coworker _finally_ showed up-- okay, she was right on time, but it felt like forever-- and Lance slid off his stool gratefully, wincing as he cracked his spine.

 

“I can do that,” she offered as he gathered up the trash.

 

“Nah, I’m headed out anyways. I got this.” Lance shot her a smile as he hefted the bag up, tossing her a quick goodbye as he walked towards the door closest to the dumpsters.

 

It was _still_ sleeting. The universe hated him.

 

Shivering, Lance flung the bag into the already overflowing bin, halfway back to the door before a sound made him pause.

 

It was a sort of squeak, but not a mechanical one. It sounded alive, and _sad._ Lance hesitated, squinting into the icy downpour, but he couldn’t see anything other than the usual grid of warehouses and pitiful patches of grass. The sound had been so faint he couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.

 

He was just about to chalk it up to an exhaustion-driven hallucination when he heard it again, louder this time and definitely coming from the grassy bank behind the dumpsters. Lance stepped up to the curb and peered down the slope. Down in the ditch below, half-filled with slushy mud, a water-logged cardboard box sat at an angle, as if it had been haphazardly thrown there. As Lance watched, the box let out another plaintive squeak and moved a little.

 

His heart dropped right down into the icy puddle under his shoes. Carefully, he picked his way down the bank, crouching down next to the box and cursing under his breath as one of his feet slipped into the water. He lifted one of the cardboard flaps.

 

Five pairs of bright eyes stared back at him. The little gray tabby kitten, the only one fully standing, squeaked at him again, mouth wide and pink. The others huddled down in the sodden corners of the box, skinny and shaking.

 

“Hi there,” Lance soothed, leaning farther forward to protect the kittens from the sleet as he carefully slid his hands under the box, biting back another curse at the freezing mud that seeped between his fingers and soaked the cuffs of his hoodie. The box was so soaked, he was afraid it might fall apart if he tried to pick it up by the sides. “It’s pretty nasty for such cute little guys to be out here by themselves.”

 

The gray kitten stumbled and sat as Lance straightened, lifting the box out of the mud. Keeping his tone even, Lance kept talking. “Who would have thrown you sweethearts out here, huh? Probably some real fucking asshole. But don’t worry, babies, Uncle Lance has you now. Or, daddy Lance? Ugh, god, no.”

 

He kept talking as he struggled back up the slope and through the backdoor. The store was huge, so it was never actually _warm_ inside, but the heat still stung on Lance’s skin. He was soaked through with sleet, actually dripping onto the floor and leaving muddy footprints behind him as he skirted around to the break room, ignoring people’s looks as he told the battered cardboard box about the religious experience that was Hunk’s baking.

 

Maybe the universe didn’t completely hate him; Lance was able to clock out and sneak out of the store without Iverson, full-time manager and part-time _actual devil,_ seeing him. He hurried to his car as quickly as he could without jostling the kittens too badly, out of things to say except singing Disney songs, settling them carefully on the passenger seat before climbing in himself and turning the heater up full blast. On the radio, Michael Bublé sang possibly the worst version of “Santa Baby” Lance had ever heard.

 

Lance took a long minute to stare at the wiggling box as his wet clothes soaked the seat underneath him.

 

“Shit.”

 

At least there was a PetSmart on the way home.

 

***

 

Lance wobbled as he pushed the door open with one foot, carefully balancing the still-damp cardboard box on top of his bag-laden arms.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at him from where he sat on the couch, setting a book open and facedown on the coffee table. The spines on his favorites were almost worn through. “There’s this little thing called _making two trips--”_ he started, rising and walking towards him, reaching for the box.

 

“Two trips is for the weak,” Lance declared breathlessly, offering Keith the box. “Careful with the kids.”

 

_“Kids?”_ The box wiggled on cue. Keith almost dropped it. “Lance, what the _fuck-”_

 

Kicking the door shut behind himself, Lance scolded, “Don’t curse in front of the children.”

 

Keith held the box like it contained an armed bomb rather than five adorable, hungry, active kittens. “What did you do?”

 

“You say that like I _ask_ for these things to happen to me,” Lance protested, carrying the bags through the living room to drop them on the dining room table. With the move into the larger apartment, they’d gotten an _actual_ dining room, not just a tiny table tucked into the corner of their kitchen anymore. Lance was pretty sure they’d only used it three times since then.

 

“Oh, good, because that’s exactly what I meant,” Keith snapped. Lance popped his head back around the corner. He hadn’t moved, staring at the shifting box.

 

Rolling his eyes, Lance turned back to unpacking the bags. The PetSmart employees had been incredibly thorough. “They’re not going to bite you, babe. Open the box and say hi.”

 

“‘Babe?’” Keith echoed, and Lance choked on his own spit. _Busted_. He’d never actually said the pet name out loud before, but it had been getting treacherously close to the tip of his tongue recently.

 

Clearing his throat, Lance replied, “I’m pretty sure I told you to greet the children, Keith.”

 

“Can you stop calling them that? It’s weird.”

 

“Literally never.”

 

Instead of replying, Keith made a soft noise, and Lance peeked around the corner again. He had set the box on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the couch and gazing down into the box with a soft smile on his face, and the universe _really_ must hate Lance because there was no way he could survive that.

 

Smiling like a doofus, he leaned against the doorway, watching as Keith took in the kittens. Grin fading, Keith looked up at him. “You found them?”

 

Lance nodded, crossing his arms. “In a ditch behind the dumpster.”

 

“Someone dumped them in a fucking _ditch?”_ Keith hissed.

 

“I know,” Lance said darkly.

 

“It’s thirty-four degrees out.”

 

Lance sighed, pushing off the wall and walking over to drop down next to him on the couch. _“I know_. Fucking asshole.”

 

“No kidding.” Keith’s eyes were back on the kittens. The biggest one, black from ears to tail, let out a huge yawn, showing off its needle-sharp teeth.

 

Lance leaned up against Keith’s side, cooing at the kittens, but was shoved away almost immediately. “Dude, you’re soaking,” Keith complained.

 

Lance looked down at his sodden hoodie. “I know,” he groaned, yet again. “It was sleeting like a motherfucker.”

 

“You’re gonna get sick if you sit around in wet clothes,” Keith pointed out, tugging at his damp sleeve with a look of disgust.

 

“Thank you! I was trying to tell Pidge-” Lance interrupted himself with a huge sneeze. Keith leaned away from him in horror.

 

“Don’t you dare bring plague into this house.”

 

“Keith, I’m _dying,”_ Lance whined, flinging himself forward to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist.

 

“No! Lance, get off me, you bastard, you’re still wet.” Keith’s protests were kind of negated by the laugh in his voice.

 

Grinning, Lance buried his head in his stomach. “Call the priest, it’s time for last confessions.”

 

“Lance!”

 

“Here I go, shuffling off this mortal coil-”

 

Keith unceremoniously dumped him onto the floor.

 

“Cruel,” Lance accused, laying on his back and grinning up at him.

 

Keith just rolled his eyes. “Go shower and change, idiot.”

 

“I’ve gotta get them food and water first,” Lance said, sitting up to gesture at the box.

 

“I can do that.”

 

“Aww, thanks, _babe.”_

 

They weren’t the three words he’d been _wanting_ to say, fighting them down for weeks now, but Keith’s cheeks went a little pink, and Lance practically cackled. “Get out of here, asshole.”

 

His wet clothes _were_ really uncomfortable. “Fine,” Lance sighed, wincing at the tingle in his freezing toes as he stood. “Take care of the babies for me.”

 

“That’s even worse than children.”

 

“Angels?” Lance tried.

 

They both looked down as the gray tabby squeaked at them. “I can live with that one,” Keith agreed.

 

***

 

The hot water had Lance’s freezing skin tingling even after he got out, toweling his hair dry as he walked towards the living room.

 

“They’re so _cute,”_ he heard Pidge gasp, and he whipped the towel off to sashay into the room.

 

“I am, thanks.” He shot her a wink.

 

Pidge barely spared him a glance from where she knelt next to the box. “Sorry, Lance, you will never out-cute a kitten.”

 

He dropped onto the couch next to her. “You know what? I can live with that.”

 

Keith stepped into the room, frowning down at the bag of kitten food. “Are they really old enough to be eating solid food?”

 

“I think so.” Lance recalled what the PetSmart employees had told him. “They can start eating solid food as early as three weeks, and they’re probably more like five or six.”

 

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you’re an expert.”

 

“I have an approximate knowledge of many things.”

 

Keith set the bag back down on the dining room table and came over to sit on the couch next to him. “What should we do with them?”

 

“Keep them,” Lance and Pidge chorused.

 

Keith gave them a look. “We cannot have five cats.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance’s petulant tone. “Because we live in a tiny apartment.”

 

“Semantics,” Pidge scoffed.

 

“Yeah, we can just move again,” Lance agreed.

 

“We are not moving just so we can have five cats.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because that’s ridiculous.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Stop that.”

 

Pidge interrupted their bickering. “In any case, we should probably take them to the vet.”

 

Lance nodded, covering a yawn. “Whatever we decide,” he said, ignoring Keith’s immediate protests, “it doesn’t have to be right away.”

 

Keith sighed. “Fine.”

 

Lance grinned, looping his arms around his waist and planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Careful, babe,” he said, laughing as Keith sputtered, “We’re gonna wear you down.”

 

Leaning back into his hold, Keith groaned, “I know.”

 

_“‘Babe?’”_ Pidge muttered, nose scrunched up in disgust.

 

“Shut up, we’re in love,” Lance shot back, pulling Keith even tighter against him. The word didn’t even register to him until it was already rolling off his tongue, and he tried to cover the way he stiffened in panic by practically crushing Keith against his chest.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Pidge snorted over Keith’s protests.

 

Lance let Keith push him away finally, sticking his tongue out at her. “You’re disgusting.”

 

“You’re both five,” Keith snorted. Lance watched him in his peripheral vision, trying to gauge his reaction to the accidental L bomb he’d dropped. Second of the day, he was really on a roll. Thankfully, Keith seemed to have missed it, leaning forward to look at the sleeping kittens without moving from Lance’s side.

 

He leaned back against the couch and let his eyes close as he yawned again. The cushions shifted as Keith leaned back next to him, and a warm arm slid around his waist. Lacing his fingers through Keith’s, Lance felt a lazy smile spread across his face.

 

“Gross,” Pidge called over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

 

“I don’t care,” Lance yelled after her, turning to kiss his not-boyfriend.

 

Keith laughed under him.

 

***

 

“Okay,” Lance grumbled a week later, untangling the gray tabby’s claws from the curtain, “five kittens may be too much for one apartment.”

 

“I told you,” Keith snorted from the kitchen.

 

“Classy, thank you.”

 

“Well, I did.”

 

Huffing, Lance clambered off the chair he’d had to use to actually reach the kitten-- seriously, how could something that small move so fast?-- cradling her carefully to his chest. She squeaked, her soft little ears brushing the underside of his chin. “Sure, but you don’t _say_ it.”

 

Keith levelled him an unimpressed glare, standing in front of the sink with raw chicken in one hand and a pair of meat scissors in the other, and romance was fucking _weird_ because Lance’s heart still stuttered a little in his chest. “You say shit like that all the time.”

 

Lance gasped and covered the kitten’s ears carefully. “Language!”

 

The look Keith shot him this time was almost pained. “She can’t speak English, Lance.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“She’s a _cat.”_

 

“No, she’s the _best_ cat,” Lance corrected, carrying her over to lean against the counter next to him, tickling her under the chin. She let out a tiny, squeaky purr in reply.

 

A smile pulled at the corner of Keith’s mouth as he turned back to the chicken. “That’s some blatant favoritism right there.”

 

“What can I say? Blue’s my girl.” Lance dropped a kiss on her tiny head.

 

“I can’t believe you named them after the Twister colors,” Keith groaned.

 

“That is not my fault,” Lance defended. “It was Pidge’s idea to play, and Hunk’s idea to play drunk. They should have known.”

 

“I’m pretty sure they couldn’t have predicted you would give our kittens what might actually be the worst names ever because you got a little too tipsy.”

 

Lance looked up from Blue’s striped head to grin at him. “You started it with Black, and you don’t even have alcohol as an excuse.”

 

It was Keith’s turn to go on the defense. “She’s solid black! What else was I supposed to call her?”

 

“He just doesn’t want to admit it’s really all his fault,” Lance told Blue, rocking her back and forth gently to the beat of the Christmas music playing in the living room.

 

Pidge wandered into the kitchen, glasses pushed up onto her head and rubbing at her eyes. “How’s the grading?” Lance asked her, stepping back so she could get to the fridge.

 

She groaned. “Awful. I don’t know why the professor wanted them all to write a full journal-style paper. My eyeballs are going to fall out of my head.”

 

“That would be an interesting Christmas picture,” Keith said dryly.

 

“Happy fucking holidays,” Pidge muttered into the refrigerator, pulling out a Red Bull and downing half of it in one go.

 

Lance eyed her. “I’m cutting you off from those things.”

 

“This should be the last one,” Pidge sighed, closing the fridge door and leaning against it. “I only have a couple papers left.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “So you can make it to Shiro’s party tomorrow?”

 

She chugged the rest of the drink and tossed the can into the recycling bin with terrifying accuracy. “If I don’t die,” she declared ominously.

 

“It’s not really _Shiro’s_ party, it’s the institute’s,” Keith reminded him, but Lance flapped a hand at him.

 

“Whatever, he works there.”

 

“It was Allura’s idea anyways,” Pidge reminded him as she shuffled off down the hall. “There’s no way Shiro would ever come up with a wreath-making party.”

 

“Go back to your cave, gremlin,” Lance called after her.

 

Keith snorted. “Brother of the year.”

 

“Better than you,” Lance retorted, bumping his hip with his own. “Figure out what you’re getting Shiro for Christmas yet?”

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

Lance laughed at his grim expression. “You’ll figure it out.”

 

Keith gave him a skeptical look. “You sound pretty sure.”

 

Lance grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “I believe in you.” Keith hummed noncommittally, but the smile was back.

 

Blue decided she had been held for long enough, thank you, and started squirming against Lance’s chest, digging her sharp claws into his skin. Wincing, Lance pulled away. “Time to put the little girl down for a nap.”

 

“Stop talking about them like they’re babies.” Keith’s voice trailed after him as he walked back into the living room. “It’s weird.”

 

“You’re weird,” Lance retorted, carefully putting Blue down in the oversized bed with the rest of her siblings.

 

Keith said something from the kitchen, and Lance couldn’t quite hear it, but it sounded a whole lot like _you love it._

 

***

 

“I’m embarrassed to be seen with you,” Keith grumbled, but he still let Lance thread their gloved fingers together.

 

Lance cackled as Keith’s sour expression flashed between red and green, courtesy of the battery-powered lights embedded in his sweater. “It’s the holiday season, Keith. You need to… _lighten up.”_ He waggled his eyebrows. Keith just groaned again at the terrible pun.

 

Pidge tugged at the hem of her own sweater, not illuminated, but covered in the most horrifying reindeer Lance had ever seen. He’d shed a tear of pride when she stepped out of her room. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she sighed, but Lance knew her well enough to recognize the excited gleam in her eye. Pidge loved the holidays almost has much as he did. “The decorations are nice.”

 

They all paused and tipped their heads back to consider the lights and glittering garland strung around the sign for the martial arts institute. In the window, silver snowflakes hung off yet more lights. “Nice and nondenominational,” Lance remarked.

 

Keith and Pidge both snorted. “C’mon, I’m freezing,” Pidge said, leading them through the door. Lance blinked as a wall of pine-scent washed over them

 

Keith’s fingers tightened just a shade in his when they saw the crowd of people already inside, and Lance squeezed back reassuringly. He was getting better, but crowds still made him uncomfortable. Keith had sworn to tell them if he was getting too anxious, though, and thankfully Pidge hated crowds almost as much as he did, so Lance knew she would stick with him.

 

“You made it,” someone gushed, and Lance turned to see Allura hurrying towards them, a grin on her beautiful face. She squeezed one of each Pidge and Keith’s shoulders, pulling them into a little knot in the sea of people.

 

Lance winked. “You know we wouldn’t bail on you.”

 

“Besides, we’ve never actually made a wreath before,” Pidge added.

 

“Oh, it’s so fun,” Allura reassured them, before making a face and holding up her hands, fingers stained black, “but messy.”

 

“Even better,” Pidge declared.

 

Allura laughed and gestured them towards a table. “You get a wreath ring over there, and you can put your coats in the locker rooms. I have to go, but I’ll tell Shiro you’re here.” With a wave and a whirl of glitter, she was off into the crowd.

 

“‘Wreath ring?’” Keith echoed, and Lance shrugged at him.

 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, pulling him towards the locker rooms.

 

They shed their coats and stopped by the table to pick up their wreath rings. “Do we really need three wreaths?” Keith asked doubtfully, as the woman behind the table took their money and handed over three metal circles.

 

“Yes,” Lance and Pidge replied in unison. Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face, a smile that Lance really wanted to kiss, even though he knew it would make Keith nervous with so many people around. He settled for catching his hand and winding their fingers together again, fighting his own smile as Keith squeezed his hand gently.

 

They made their way towards an open spot at one of the long, pine-laden tables. “So… what do we do?” Pidge asked, holding up her wreath ring and casting a calculating look at the pine boughs piled in front of them.

 

“Hey, you guys made it,” someone exclaimed behind them, and they turned just in time for Hunk to pick Pidge up into a hug.

 

“Hunk,” she protested, flailing, “put me down.”

 

“Sorry, Pidge, but I haven’t seen you in forever. Term’s finally over, huh?”

 

Pidge groaned and nodded. “Freedom. For three weeks, at least.”

 

Lance let go of Keith’s hand to receive his own Hunk hug with only a small amount of regret. “Hey, buddy.”

 

Keith gave him a wave and smile, and then Hunk was turning their attention back to the table to explain the process of wreath-making. It was basically just wrapping bunches of greenery onto the frame with heavy wire and then putting a ribbon on it.

 

Hunk made it look incredibly easy. After five minutes of fighting with a pine branch and _losing,_ Lance was beginning to think he had misled them.

 

“Shay’s really good at it,” Hunk explained, showing them how to wrap the ends of the branches for the umpteenth time. Lance’s wreath was already twice as big as either Pidge or Keith’s. Pidge elbowed him hard in the ribs as he opened his mouth to make a joke, and sometimes he really regretted that his sister knew him so well.

 

After another few minutes of small talk, Hunk’s attention was caught by something across the room. “Sorry guys, looks like Shay needs me for something. You guys gonna be okay?”

 

Lance, almost finished with his wreath, waved him off. “We’re good, dude. Thanks for the assist.”

 

“You got it, buddy. Hey, we’re doing Christmas Eve at your place this year, right?”

 

Lance nodded, selecting another pine branch from the table. “Yeah, we wanted to do Christmas with the kittens.”

 

“As you should,” Hunk nodded sagely. “I’ll see you guys next week, then. Happy holidays!”

 

“Say hi to Shay,” Lance called after him over Pidge and Keith’s goodbyes. He shot them a thumbs-up as he disappeared into the crowd.

 

Lance looked back down at his wreath. “I think I’m done,” he announced, holding it up for the others to observe.

 

They burst into laughter. Lance shot them an indignant look. “What?”

 

“That thing is a fucking monster, dude,” Pidge choked.

 

Lifting it again, Lance considered it. Okay, maybe he’d gone a little nuts, but who cared?

 

“No wonder you finished so fast,” Keith wheezed. “It’s like, four huge branches.”

 

Lance hugged the bushy wreath to his chest. “You don’t have to be rude about it.” Still, he couldn’t fight his own smile as Pidge and Keith kept laughing. “Whatever, assholes, I’m going to find Shiro,” he declared, dropping his wreath on the table next to them and giving Pidge a quick noogie.

 

Keith caught his wrist and pulled him back as Pidge squawked in outrage, standing on his tiptoes to give Lance a quick kiss, and now he really couldn’t help the wide grin breaking out all over his face, and a little voice in the back of his head was screaming _Just say it, you idiot_ , but Keith was already talking.

 

“It’s… a good wreath,” he reassured him, looking a little flustered.

 

“Oh, sure, now you change your tune,” Lance teased, swallowing the words that lingered on his tongue.

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith let his hands slide off Lance’s shoulders. “Go find my brother.”

 

Lance saluted him as he walked away. “You got it, babe.”

 

“Stop that,” Keith yelled after him, but Lance just waved him off and ducked into the crowd.

 

Shiro was standing in a crowd of ten-year-olds, all of whom were trying to instruct him on proper wreath-making technique. Lance hung back for a moment and watched, grinning, as Shiro wrestled with the bundle of greenery before throwing his hands in the air and stepping back, leaving it to his students to take over. He walked over to Lance’s side like he’d known he was there the whole time.

 

“Haven’t mastered the art of wreath-making yet, eh?” Lance teased.

 

Shiro shot him a look. “Au contraire, my friend, I’ve made six today.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow and Shiro drooped.

 

“With Allura’s help,” he finished in a mumble.

 

Lance slapped him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, buddy, arts and crafts aren’t for everyone.”

 

Shiro cast a despairing look at the group of kids fixing his mess of a wreath. “Only for ten-year-olds.”

 

“You’ll get there one day.”

 

Shiro turned, mouth opening on a reply, but his gaze fixed on a point over Lance’s shoulder and a shadow passed over his face.

 

In all the years he’d known Shiro, Lance had never seen him get so angry so quickly. He spun to follow his gaze, eyes landing on a tall figure standing a few feet away, and even though he hadn’t seen him in years Lance still recognized him fast enough that the breath froze in his lungs.

 

Rolo.

 

Shiro brushed by him with a thunderous expression and tight shoulders, and Lance hurried after him, head spinning.

 

He came up to Shiro’s shoulder just in time to hear him hiss, “What are you doing here?”

 

Rolo eyed him. “Shiro, right?” His dark eyes slid to Lance. “Nice to see you again, Lance.”

 

Shiro’s fingers curled around his wrist, and Lance wasn’t actually going to try anything, but it anchored him against the tidal wave of anger that crashed through him. “Fuck off,” Lance snarled.

 

Rolo fucking _smiled._ Lance felt a little sick. “Cold, man.”

 

“I- you-” Words failed him.

 

Shiro took over, back to his usual calm, even self. “What are you doing here, Rolo?”

 

That smile never wavered, and Lance wanted to punch it right off his dumb fucking face. “I heard a little rumor Keith was back in town. Had to see if it was true.” He nodded at a point over their shoulder, and Lance’s stomach dropped right out through the floor as they turned to peer through the crowd at, of course, Keith, laughing at something Pidge was saying as they sorted through piles of pine branches.

 

“Kinda surprised, y’know?” Rolo continued, and Lance swallowed hard as he met that eerily steady gaze. “After what he did…”

 

The implication of the dangling end of that sentence hit Lance like a blow. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say, but you need to go,” he snapped, grateful his voice wasn’t shaking as much as the rest of him.

 

Rolo raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “But this is a public event, right? A fundraiser?”

 

Lance jerked forward. “Listen, _buddy-”_

 

Shiro cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Lance is right,” he said firmly. “You need to leave.”

 

Rolo sent that lazy smile his way. “I’m just here for the party, man.”

 

“You’re a felon in an institute for children,” Shiro replied, ice in his words. “You can leave, or I can have the police come down here and have a conversation with you.”

 

The smile finally faded, just a little. “Alright, man, I get it. I’ll bounce.”

 

“Good.” The steel in Shiro’s voice didn’t soften at all. “And if I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to contact the authorities. Now get out.”

 

Rolo’s smile was gone, now, and he nodded once before turning and heading towards the door. Shiro had to squeeze Lance’s shoulder to pull his gaze away from the back of Rolo’s head.

 

“You okay?” Shiro asked.

 

“Am I okay?” Lance spluttered. “I’m fine. But, Shiro, that _fucking dickbag-”_

 

Shiro let out a long breath. “I know. At least Keith didn’t-” He stopped, frowning as he searched the crowd. “Where is he?”

 

“Keith?” Lance asked, twisting to scan the room. “He was back in the…” He trailed off as he saw Pidge standing there by herself, looking confused and gazing towards the door, and whipped his head around just in time to see Keith storming out of it. _“Shit,”_ Lance breathed before racing after him, pushing through the crowd with Shiro hot on his heels.

 

It was fucking _freezing_ outside, and Lance gasped as the cold air hit his lungs. He heard Keith shout across the parking lot, distant and echoing in the night air, and Lance’s heart slammed against his ribs in time to the chorus of _please god no_ in his head as he sprinted across the asphalt.

 

He rounded an SUV just in time to see Keith punch Rolo in the face. Rolo stumbled for a moment before catching his balance and flinging himself forward, driving his shoulder into Keith’s stomach and slamming him back against a car. The alarm went off.

 

Keith kneed Rolo in the stomach and sent him stumbling off again, following with a wordless shout, swinging another punch. Lance yelled his name, but neither man paid him any attention. Rolo dodged the punch and snapped out one of his own, catching Keith right in the eye.

 

Shiro barreled past Lance where he stood on frozen legs, pushing between them and shoving them away from each other with a hand on each of their chests. Keith was shouting again, and Lance’s heart was still hammering fast enough that he had to take a second to decipher the words.

 

“-you don’t know, Shiro, you don’t know what this asshole does to people, what he did to me-” Keith choked on his own words, and Lance caught his breath right along with him before Keith was talking again, _snarling._ “I’m going to fucking _kill him-”_

 

“No, you’re not,” Shiro told him, calm but hard. Rolo watched them with a strange light in his eye, and Lance was moving again, coming forward to stand between the brothers and Rolo.

 

“You’re leaving,” Lance told him, hating the ragged edge he couldn’t keep out of his voice.

 

Rolo didn’t say a word, just turned and walked away, and Lance watched him vanish into the night.

 

“How can you let him _go?”_ Keith growled, and Lance met his gaze as he turned, dark and wild and _furious,_ like a wild animal.

 

“You _punched_ him,” he snapped back, and he knew that he shouldn’t be yelling but he was _so angry,_ suddenly. “What did you want me to do, call the cops to come lock _both_ of you up?”

 

There were footsteps behind them, and voices that Lance recognized as his sister and friends, but Keith was talking again and all the breath was punched right out of Lance’s chest. “You should have, you idiot,” Keith hissed. “You fucking _should have.”_

 

There was utter silence for a long minute as they stared at each other, before Keith pulled himself out of Shiro’s grip and walked off in the opposite direction of Rolo, hands in his pockets.

 

Carefully, Lance turned to see everyone looking at him with wide eyes. “What?” he snapped, but it felt thin.

 

Shiro shook his head. “I’m going after him.” Allura fell in beside him as he followed Keith, speaking in a low voice.

 

Pidge came up to him, cautiously touching his wrist, and man if _that_ didn’t make Lance feel even worse. His own sister was scared he was going to yell at her. He sucked in a shuddering breath and turned away from her.

 

“What happened?” Pidge asked.

 

Lance started to speak, but his throat caught on the words, so he cleared it and tried again, gesturing helplessly. “Rolo showed up, and Shiro and I were trying to get him to leave, but I guess Keith saw him and…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

 

“Fuck,” Pidge said after a moment, and it summed everything up so perfectly Lance couldn’t help but laugh. They both ignored the wetness to it.

 

“Fuck,” he agreed, wiping his running nose.

 

Pidge looked up at him for a long moment, and he pulled himself together enough to shoot her a crooked smile, ruffling her hair. She ducked away, grumbling, but fell in beside him as he walked towards where Hunk and Shay stood and didn’t even complain as he draped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her up against him. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

 

Lance huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Just…” He trailed off. He didn’t have the right words to finish that thought.

 

Pidge, bless her soul, nodded like she understood.

 

Hunk slung an arm around Lance’s shoulders as they walked up. “You okay, buddy?” Lance couldn’t gather the words this time, but he nodded.

 

Pidge explained in a word. “Rolo.”

 

Hunk sucked in a breath, and Shay’s face darkened. “I can contact the police,” she offered.

 

Lance shook his head and cleared his throat again, hoping his voice was steadier than he felt. “Nah, he’s probably long gone.”

 

“Good riddance,” Pidge growled, and Lance squeezed her a little tighter, feeling the cold knot in his heart ease a little as her arm slipped around his waist to hug him back.

 

They walked back to the institute in silence. Inside, the party was still going, winding down a little with the late hour, but still so loud and warm and bright it felt like an assault on Lance’s senses. He and Pidge gathered their coats, and Lance tucked Keith’s carefully over his arm. Hunk and Shay gathered up their wreaths for them without even asking, although Lance thought they had made a mistake when they handed his over. Someone had put an enormous red bow on it.

 

Pidge’s face twisted a little. “Keith and I picked it out.”

 

“It’s a little big,” Lance joked, weakly.

 

Pidge shrugged, looking away. “It’s loud and obnoxious, just like you.” She softened her words by leaning against him, and if his hands weren’t full he would catch her up in another hug.

 

Instead, he settled for nudging her. “Thanks, Pidgey.”

 

She scowled at the pet name, collecting the other two wreaths from Shay. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

They bid goodbye to Hunk and Shay and stepped outside to wait for Shiro.

 

Allura showed up first, not even shivering in the cold air even though she didn’t have a coat.

 

“Did you find him?” Pidge asked.

 

Allura nodded, brow creased. “Yes, Shiro’s with him. They’ll be back soon.” She sighed, gazing out across the darkened lot. “I should have had more security.”

 

“Allura, this isn’t your fault,” Lance told her. “Rolo’s the dick here.”

 

A tiny smile pulled at her mouth as she looked back at him. “He is a dick, isn’t he?”

 

Pidge snorted. “Allura, cursing? It’s a Christmas miracle.”

 

She winked at them, startling a laugh out of Lance. “I should get back inside,” she said, regretfully. “Will you two be okay out here?”

 

They nodded. “Night, Allura,” Pidge said.

 

Lance summoned up another crooked smile. “Good luck with the rest of the party.”

 

With one last hesitant smile, she stepped back inside.

 

It was only a couple more minutes before Shiro and Keith showed up, but Lance was already starting to shiver. No one said anything for a long moment, but Shiro finally sighed, gazing down at Keith, and asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

 

Swallowing, Keith nodded. “Yeah.” He kept his eyes on the tips of his shoes, studying them intently, but even from the angle Lance could tell his eye was swelling already.

 

Shiro looked up at Lance. “You okay to drive?”

 

Nodding, Lance shot him a tired smile. “All good. Thanks, Shiro.”

 

He nodded, giving Keith one last long look before sighing and heading inside.

 

The three of them stood there for a long moment before Pidge broke the silence. “Let’s go. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

 

A smile tugged at the corner of Lance’s mouth. “Language.”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture she hadn’t pulled in years, but it made his heart feel a little lighter. “Whatever, _mom.”_

 

She led the way back to their car, Lance trailing her with Keith a half-step behind him. Their hands were still full with the wreaths, so Keith took the keys from Lance’s pocket and unlocked the doors. Their eyes met briefly as Keith handed them back and Lance handed his jacket over, and there was nothing but regret and sorrow in Keith’s eyes, and, okay, Lance was still a little mad and hurt but he leaned down to drop a kiss on Keith’s forehead anyways.

 

He hopped in the driver’s seat and Pidge climbed into the seat directly behind him, and as Keith walked around to the passenger’s side she mumbled, “‘We’re not dating,’ my ass.”

 

_“Pidge,”_ Lance hissed, but Keith was pulling his door open and raising an eyebrow at the way he had twisted around in his seat to glare at her, and Pidge snickered as Lance wilted and faced forwards again.

 

The ride home was quiet. Lance kept fiddling with the radio dial, but everything was wrong- too upbeat, too sad, too cheesy, too _weird-_ until finally Keith reached out and gently pushed his fingers away to turn the radio off altogether.

 

Strangely, the silence felt better.

 

They got home and unloaded, and carefully slipped inside to prevent the kittens from escaping. Red in particular liked to bolt through the gap whenever someone opened the door.

 

They got in without any incidents, though, and Pidge carefully placed her wreath on the dining room table before saying a quiet “Night” and vanishing down the hall to her bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw her give Keith’s arm a squeeze as she passed him.

 

Keith stood in the center of the living room for a moment, looking absolutely lost, and Lance couldn’t help but flash back to all those months ago when he’d first shown up in their old apartment, the same uncertain, frail air around him.

 

Lance pushed him gently towards the couch. “Sit.”

 

A huge breath of air escaped Keith as his shoulders slumped and he nodded, flopping down with another sigh. Lance watched him look at the sleeping kittens for a long second before ducking back into the kitchen. He took a moment to breathe before he pulled an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a dish towel, handing it to Keith as he returned to the living room. “Your eye looks like shit.”

 

Keith huffed a tiny laugh, taking it and pressing it against his face. “Thanks.”

 

Lance nodded, and there was another long moment of silence, unbearably heavy with all the things they weren’t saying. “Ready for bed?” Lance asked finally, just to break it, and Keith nodded wordlessly and followed him down the hall.

 

They didn’t say anything as they got ready for bed, but as Lance settled down on his side, reaching over to turn out the light, Keith shuffled a little and said, “Goodnight, Lance.”

 

And he was right there, Lance could have stretched his arm out and touched him, but those two words made him feel farther away than ever. “Night,” he replied, rolling over and squeezing his eyes shut against the darkness.

 

***

 

Lance was woken by something slamming into his back _hard._ “What’s going on?” he asked, sitting bolt upright-- or, he _tried_ to ask, anyways. It came out more as a jumble of sounds than anything close to real words. He blinked and squinted into the darkness.

 

Keith gasped beside him, and hit hit Lance like a bucket of ice water right in the face. He yanked himself free of the covers and groped for the light, nearly falling out of bed in his hurry to get the damn thing on, before turning back to Keith, a twitching, whimpering ball beside him.

 

It had been _months_ since he had a nightmare this bad. Lance knew exactly what brought it on, of course, but it didn’t make him feel any less sick as he helplessly watched Keith thrash against the sheets.

 

Slowly, gently, Lance took his hands, curled up into fists, and rubbed at them until they relaxed, softly saying Keith’s name until one of his eyes finally blinked open to meet his. The other was held shut by the purple swelling spreading across the left side of his face.

 

Lance gave him a tight smile. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Keith croaked back, blinking against the light. He was pale and sweaty, and Lance could feel his fingers trembling against his own.

 

He opened his mouth to ask if he needed something, but Keith suddenly pulled his hands free. Before that sting could really settle, though, Keith was sitting up and sliding his arms around his back, pulling him into a tight hug.

 

Lance squeezed him gently, rubbing slow circles into his back. “Hey, it’s okay.”

 

“‘M sorry,” Keith mumbled into his t-shirt, and Lance shook his head immediately.

 

“Nightmares aren’t your fault, Keith, we’ve been over this-”

 

“No,” Keith interrupted, still muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was- Fuck, Lance, I was such an asshole.” He pulled back, and Lance was struck dumb by the tears in his good eye. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, soft and sad.

 

Lance pressed their foreheads together. “It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not-” Keith started again, trying to pull away, but Lance cupped his face gently and held him there.

 

“Yes, it _is,_ because I forgive you, okay?”

 

Keith let out a shuddering sigh. “You shouldn’t.”

 

Well, fuck, what was he supposed to say to that? “Too bad, I do,” he retorted, pulling back to give him a kiss. _Nailed it._

 

Keith snorted, but leaned against his chest again, and Lance buried his nose in his dark hair, and they just sat like that for a while.

 

“I’m sorry too,” Lance said finally. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

 

Keith squeezed him a little tighter. “It’s okay.”

 

His heart swelled, and Lance swallowed hard against the three heavy words that suddenly hung on the tip of his tongue.

 

Lance nearly shot off the bed as something squeaked behind him.

 

They whipped around- well, Lance whipped around; Keith just kind of peered over his shoulder- to see Blue, hauling herself up onto the bedspread with determined little claws.

 

“What are you doing here?” Lance asked her, and she squeaked again, crawling into his lap. He petted her obligingly, even as he scolded, “You’re supposed to be in bed, miss, not giving me a goddamn heart attack.”

 

“Language,” Keith said with a quiet laugh, and Lance couldn’t even hope to stop his smile.

 

***

 

Christmas had always been Lance’s favorite holiday-- probably unsurprising, since it was literally a holiday about friends and family. Secularly, anyways.

 

Still, every year he was blindsided by how _good_ everything was at the holidays. Okay, the Rolo incident the week before had put a damper on that for a couple days, but now he felt nothing but Christmas cheer. It was Christmas Eve, Ella Fitzgerald was crooning carols through the speakers, Shiro, Pidge and Allura were sciencing the shit out of a ham in the kitchen, Shay and Hunk were sitting at the dining room table and cutting paper snowflakes with the kittens-- which had quickly become a rather challenging game of keep away-- and Lance was plopping down on the floor by the newly decorated tree next to Keith, handing him a glass of eggnog and greeting Blue and Red, curled up and asleep in his lap.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow, but Lance shook his head in reply. “I grabbed it before Allura could get to it with the rum.”

 

“She was a pirate in a past life, I swear,” Keith snorted, taking a sip.

 

“Terror of the seven seas,” Lance agreed, grinning at him.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “That hat is so dumb.”

 

Lance straightened his Santa hat, flicking the fuzzy ball back to dangle down the back of his neck. “It’s Christmas, babe, you’re supposed to look dumb.”

 

“The real reason for the season, I always forget.”

 

Lance nudged him. “Thank god you have me to remind you, huh?”

 

His breath caught at the way Keith’s face softened. “Yeah.”

 

Swallowing hard, Lance leaned in and kissed him. He tasted like nutmeg, which wasn’t even fucking _fair_ , so he kissed him again, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.

 

“What was that for?” Keith asked, that soft smile still playing across his lips.

 

A voice in his head that sounded a lot like Woody Harrelson growled, _Time to nut up or shut up,_ and that was possibly the least romantic thing Lance could think about right now so he stopped thinking and opened his mouth. “I-”

 

Something exploded in the kitchen, Pidge’s loud cackle hard on its heels. “Lance!” Shiro yelled, and Lance let his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling and groan.

 

“I,” he repeated over Keith’s laughter, “am going to go restrain my sister before she burns the house down.”

 

“Is there supposed to be that much smoke?” he heard Shay ask.

 

“Lance is on it,” Hunk replied with confidence. “Yellow, stop that-”

 

Sighing, Lance moved to stand up. Keith caught his face in his hands. “Wait a second.”

 

Lance frowned. “Babe, you know what Pidge is capable of-”

 

Keith leaned in and kissed him again, pulling back just enough so Lance could see the gleam in his eye as he said, clear and soft, “I love you.”

 

Lance gaped at him. “You- I-” Keith started laughing again, and Lance smacked his shoulder without any real force. “You asshole,” he gasped finally. “You stole my moment.”

 

Keith nodded. “And I one hundred percent do not regret it.”

 

“Fuck you,” Lance groaned, pulling him in for another kiss. “I love you too,” he added after they separated, pressing their foreheads together. “God dammit.”

 

“Gross,” Pidge commented from behind them, and Lance whipped around to see her standing there with a wrinkled nose and the little brown tabby they’d named Green cradled against her chest. “About time, though, geez. Some people take it slow, and then there’s you two back there with the glaciers.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “We were having a romantic moment and you ruined it doing… what, exactly?”

 

“I wanted to see what would happen if you put one of those little chocolate rum barrels in the microwave.”

 

Lance closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to whatever deity was listening for patience.

 

“Did it work?” Keith asked.

 

Lance smacked him again. “Don’t encourage her.”

 

“Still,” Pidge said, sending a smirk Lance’s way, “I’m glad to see the saga of _Lance’s Big Gay Unconditional Love_ has advanced to the next step.”

 

Keith cracked up again as Lance sputtered. “You promised never to speak of that,” he screeched, grabbing at her to exact vengeance through noogies.

 

She dodged his flailing arms and fled the room with a cackle.

 

“Hey, look, it’s snowing,” Hunk gasped.

 

“What?” Lance yelped, scrambling to his feet and pulling Keith up behind him, taking Blue as Keith handed her to him. Pidge was already pressing against the window, Green perched on her shoulder. They crowded in behind her, and Allura and Shiro came out of the kitchen to stand next to Hunk and Shay as they cradled Yellow and Black.

 

Outside, tiny white flakes drifted towards the ground.

 

“Shiro, hold my cat,” Lance commanded, ignoring Shiro’s protests as he handed Blue over and pulled open the sliding glass door to the balcony. Pidge followed him after passing her cat off to Shay, beaming up at the sky and catching snowflakes with her tongue.

 

The door slid open again behind them, and Keith stepped out, frowning at the clouds. “They’re so small.”

 

“Because it’s cold,” Shiro called from inside, cradling Blue against his chest. She looked tiny in his hands.

 

Lance grinned at them, lined up along the glass door. “You guys coming out?”

 

Hunk shuddered. “No thanks, dude, I like my toes where they are.”

 

“Me too,” Keith mourned, but he leaned close enough to Lance that their arms brushed, and he took that as his cue to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. As Keith’s arm slipped around his waist, Lance turned to drop a kiss on his temple.

 

“Think it’ll stick?” Pidge asked, still looking up at the flakes.

 

Lance followed her gaze. “I hope so.”


End file.
